


Thunderstruck

by astrotxt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cheerleader!Dean, Homophobic Language, M/M, Panty Kink, punk!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrotxt/pseuds/astrotxt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Punk!Cas meets Cheerleader!Dean and smutty things ensue. In which my titles are in no way creative and there are smatters of kinks throughout. Short and sweet high school au. Some angst and bullying (because yeah, I had to put a lil plot in).</p><p>Originally inspired by castielnovak's fan art, I couldn't help myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As the bells rang for the end of the day, Castiel packed up his battered copy of “The God of Small Things” and started to walk out the door when he heard a cough behind him. 

“Yes?” he didn’t even bother to turn and face Crowley. He knew what was coming. 

“You missed the 80’s, Novak. Lip ring, out. Fill as many holes as you like outside this classroom,” his lascivious drawl typical of a Wednesday afternoon, “but in here, we want you looking respectable, hmm? Looking pretty for the superintendent? Always prowling around like he owns the place- Well, he does.”

Castiel would normally argue that as an English teacher, surely he should understand the merits of self-expression, but he doesn’t want to be late. He carefully pries the small sliver of silver out of his bottom lip, holds it up for Crowley to see and departs without another word. As soon as he passes the threshold, he hooks it back in, the metal comfortable against his skin. He runs his tongue over it, but imagines it’s someone else.

——

As Dean stretches, his pressed green uniform melding with his body, he casts frequent glances over to the bleachers, a particular spot that isn’t occupied today. He frowns, then attempts to pull his focus to practising his balance. After about five walk-throughs of his easiest but longest sequence, he finally catches what he’s looking for. Who he’s looking for. 

Castiel Novak, even with his sides shaved, has the most unruly sex hair Dean has ever laid eyes on. Not that he’s had much experience with sex hair. Or any in fact. He’s always been too distracted, eyes never blue enough, demeanour never unapproachable enough, hands never course enough. Although of course, Dean had only imagined that Novak has course hands. 

Yet despite his appearance, Dean can somehow tell there’s more to him than an attitude of back the hell off, he’s… different. Dean likes different. He stares for perhaps a little too long, savouring the way Castiel turns the pages of the books he’s always reading at every practice and imagining those hands running over him, but he’s brought back to reality by the rest of his team shouting chants and finally throwing a pompom in his face.


	2. Chapter 2

As usual, Castiel walked home alone a little while after the practice had finished, his music blaring in his ears. Whilst he normally enjoyed a wide range of music, contrary to the popular belief that he was an inherent music snob as gleaned from his appearance, this afternoon AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” roared against his eardrums. He had no real reason to, but the guitar solo’s intense precision and passion made him fantasise about his favourite male cheerleader. 

He could imagine the anticipation of watching him undress, the blush crawling up his cheeks like Young’s fingers crawling down the frets, whilst the drum beats would mirror his own hammering heartbeat. It was truly suspense that danced under his skin, the thrill of the chase, Dean’s golden skin slowly being revealed to an awe-struck boy whose fingers ached to touch-

“Hey, Castiel, right?” a shout clapped right next to him, startling him and causing his breath to hitch.

“Erm, yes?”

——

Dean spotted him walking on his less-than-usual route home. He’d detoured after picking books up from Victor’s, and there he was. He could hardly believe his luck. He’d never seen Castiel in motion before. He’d have thought he traipsed around with his clunky scuff-marked boots, but he was inherently graceful it seemed, practically floating along the sidewalk. 

A rush bit through him. Excitement. It took some inner persuasion, but he worked up the courage and broke into a run before he could convince himself it was a horrific idea. Bounding up to Castiel without breaking a sweat, he gave his most winning grin and greeted him.

“Hey, Castiel, right?”, without realising his victim was completely caught unawares.

“Erm, yes?” Castiel furrowed his brow. But he took out his earphones. That was a good sign… right?

“Hey! Dean Winchester.” He proclaimed as he stuck out a hand, instantly wincing at how childish he sounded paired with a damn handshake? Castiel eyed it as if it were a foreign object before smirking slightly, his lip ring glinting like a wink.

“How formal,” he muttered before taking it and shaking it once, twice, strongly. “Hello Dean.” his voice was low and scratched something deep in Dean. For once his sunny demeanour stuttered a little. 

“I- It’s just that, er, we’ve never really spoken before, which is crazy ‘cause, y’know, same school, same town…” he trailed off. This was not how things were meant to go. He was a charmer, swept ‘em off their feet. Yet he seemed to be making no headway with Castiel, whose furrowed brow seemed a motif in this conversation. 

“I don’t believe I have any classes with you.” Castiel answered in that damn voice of his again. 

“Actually,” Dean reached around his head and started to rub his neck because god, was he getting flustered? “we have AP Calculus together, but you never really turn up for.. well, anything other than the term papers really. So, yeah. I mean I don’t know how you do it, I have to pay attention to everything Ms Barnes says to get a thing through here but-"

“You noticed.” Like a freakin’ blade, his surprise cut straight through to Dean and suddenly- Woah. How do eyes even _get_ that damn blue?

“Well yeah, you’re kind of a genius, man.” Nervous laughing? Pull yourself together Winchester, yeesh. 

“I just,” Castiel seemed to consider continuing but something sparked in his eyes and Dean knew he was in trouble because DAMN if that mischievousness wasn’t a huge turn-on “How about I help you out?”

“W- what?” 

“I can teach you some of my tricks. Then maybe…” He sidled up to Dean, so damn close his breath ghosted over his quivering Adam’s apple, “we can skip class together?”

Dean’s heart fluttered at that, possibilities and fantasies zipping through his head at break-neck speed. Keep your cool, Winchester. Dear God, who’s he kidding? With a smile straining his face, he rips a page out of one of Victor’s books and scribbles down his number before he lost his nerve, thrusting it into Castiel’s chest just to get a little distance between them. Miss Halverson and her army of cats don’t need a show at 5.30 in the afternoon. 

“Awesome.”

“Indeed.” Castiel slowly mirrored his face-breaking smile, and they parted ways at the apple tree on Garrison St. 

And if maybe Dean thought of Castiel’s voice uttering profanities and gruff expressions of bliss against his dick as he jerked off that evening, that’s his business. 


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks had passed, and Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so… fulfilled. Someone who finally didn’t just see the superficial persona he projected, but who he was underneath. Of course he’d never divulge this to Dean, since they were just friends. Friends who exchanged eye-sex on every platform from stolen side-long glances in class (there was finally a reason for Castiel to resume attendance) to full-on staring, drinking each other in unabashedly. Dean stopped shying away after Castiel showed no sign of ceasing the second time he had dared to initiate it. 

Dean always asked the sweetest questions without ever sounding accusatory or judgemental. It was a god-given talent, Castiel thought. 

“Why did you get your lip pierced?” 

When Castiel answered ‘I don’t particularly like my lips’, his heart had audibly fluttered when Dean’s eyes flickered down to them, and smiled, saying nothing in words, but leagues in his wicked green eyes. 

“Do you have any tattoos?” 

He’d already made a habit of tracing the scorpion’s tail that led from Castiel’s middle finger to wind up to the crook of his left elbow. 

“Why a scorpion?” he’d whispered the first time.

“Because although it is in their nature to sting, they are not ultimately evil animals. And there’s a strange grace to them… It’s difficult to articulate.”

“Beautiful but deadly.” Dean had murmured. 

“Is your, y’know… thing pierced?”

Castiel had laughed openly at that one, then said “That’s for me to know,” letting the rest of the usual saying hang in the air to join the rest of their sexual tension. 

Yesterday, when Dean had finally seemed to gather enough courage (Castiel had seen him silently weigh up pros and cons for a week now) he asked to actually see one of Castiel’s hidden tattoos.

“I mean, how many do you have?”

“I have 7, but a couple of them I did myself, the scorpion and jar of lightning on my leg. There is one that I’m particularly fond of, but not even Gabriel knows I got it.”

His stomach flipped as he jumped up and started to pull off his shirt, lingering slightly to give Dean a better view. As he pulled the neck off, he ruffled his hair and turned around, bearing his back to the other boy. Showing him the long dark feathers that dripped down from his shoulder blades. 

——

They were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen in his life. Granted, he hadn’t had much of a life having lived in Lawrence for all of it, but damn. The sheer artistry was staggering, every time Castiel moved a fraction they looked like the rustled and moved with him. Unable to stop himself, Dean was drawn to Castiel, taking in the sight before him with near reverence. 

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice had suddenly dropped a couple of octaves, and it sent a low roll of heat through Dean, like a dusky wind across sand dunes. 

“Cas… you’re- they’re gorgeous.” he didn’t know when it had happened but he’d somehow ended up trailing his slightly calloused fingertips lightly down Castiel’s back, tracing the flow of the raven-coloured wings. He was brought out of his heady trance when he heard a low groan that reverberated through his cuticles.

As he looked around Cas, Dean noticed he’d closed his azure eyes. He continued, coaxing out that deep growl again and again. He managed a couple of times, a smile that only just managed to break through the haze of arousal warming him from his cheeks to his dick accentuating the bliss on his face. And all this from just touching Cas’ /back/. Dean couldn’t control himself. He leaned forward a bit further a planted a soft kiss on Cas’ nape, quiet as a promise.

Cas stood stock still, every muscle locking. It was like watching a triggered door alarm guard itself. Dean took a small step back, whispering “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise, I just- I thought you wanted me to and- ”

He didn’t get to finish his excuses because Castiel had whipped round, curled one hand around the back of his neck and the other cupping his cheek, tracing his eyebrow with his thumb. They were close, Castiel’s heated glare flaring up Dean’s face, searching deep deep into his eyes, wanting something… confirmation?

Sure enough- “Dean? Are you sure? You’re sure you want this?” a voice that could level a forest, it was so serious.

Dean raised his arms, placing one hand on Cas’ hip and one trailing through his unruly bedhead. 

“I want you, Cas.” he squeezed them close together, and planted another sweet kiss on Castiel’s lip, licking the glinting ring before looking into his eyes again, eyes you could drown in. “That enough proof for ya?”

Castiel smiled then his expression grew darker, hungrier, and he snatched kiss after kiss from Dean, ravishing his lips, licking and biting and bruising his jawline and jesus /christ/ Dean had never felt so wanted, so alive. 

He separated them quickly just to shrug off his shirt and tug his sweatpants off, before he looked up to see the stunned look on Cas’ face.

“What? I think we’ve had enough foreplay, don’t you?” Dean’s smile and his tone were cheeky but inside he was just a little terrified. He’d wanted this for too long, what if Cas didn’t want him like that right away?

“Dean, are you sure?” Cas, always the damn boy scout, despite his ink and so-called bad attitude. 

“Cas, if you don’t get right in me and fuck me senseless I will leave and not come back, you hear me?”

Finally, Cas’ hunger returned, and he looked at the precome starting to stain the tented point of Dean’s boxers. “I’d like to see you try.”

As Cas half-pushed, half-lowered Dean onto the bed, their lips barely left each other’s skin, Castiel deftly managing to get his jeans off whilst peppering Dean’s collar with huge mottled hickeys. As he started to mouth Dean’s dick through his boxers, he started to breathe a little more heavily. Cas leaned over to his drawer and picked up a bottle of lube, mouth sucking along Dean’s hipbones. He then kissed back down to the tops of Dean’s thighs, his tongue lapping just behind his knees, hearing Dean hiss his pleasure through gritted teeth. 

As he attended to the other knee, he carefully started to work one finger inside and Dean clenched up a little.

“Let go, Dean, relax, I’ve got you.” his voice rippled up Dean’s body, setting off fireworks at every damn never Dean had. “I’ve always got you. You can trust me.”

“God Cas, more, keep talkin’.” Dean moaned, as he tried to loosen himself around Cas’ finger. 

“I’ve wanted you ever since I first saw you, Dean. In that tight uniform.” Kiss. “Your ass,” kiss, “your smile, so _naughty_ ” kiss, “your eyes,” kiss, “your eyes, Dean, I’ve never seen eyes as beautiful as yours and hey, we have high def tv nowadays.” 

Dean breathed a laugh, and his heart leapt with a small bound of courage. “More, Cas. I want more of you.”

Cas took his cue and worked another finger in, to the hilt this time, poking around for the golden ticket, working him open as gently as he can. As he prodded Dean’s prostate, his back arched off the bed with a low moan that dragged Cas’s dick into overdrive. 

“C’mon, Cas, we haven’t got all damn day, I’ve got calc to finish.” Dean breathed, but it came out more as a whine, as Cas put one more finger in, stroking his perineum with his thumb, which caused Dean to gasp. He was a quivering mess and he knew neither of them would last too long.

“Cas. Seriously, I need you.”

And with that, through glazed eyes, Dean watched as Cas coated his dick with a fuck ton of lube, circling his entrance with his head. They were both leaking precome like there was no tomorrow, and Cas gripped Dean’s hips tight as he started to slowly let himself in. It was a little weird, before Cas jerked as he bottomed out and FUCK, he’s pressed right up against Dean’s prostate and he can feel how hot and tight he is around Cas and-

“For fuck’s sake Cas, move your ass!”

Cas took Dean in his hand, rocking his hips and angling himself so that they wordlessly figured out a rhythm. They rocked and stroked and worshipped with hands and words and lips, Cas slowing his pace every so often to snatch kisses from Dean’s lips and attempt to lick the hickeys clean off Dean’s chest. It wasn’t long before Dean felt himself fall over the precipice and he clenched around Cas, trying to hold onto something for dear life as everything grew brighter and brighter. 

——

“So you’ve had some experience then?” Dean asked breathlessly as he traced the wings again. Castiel knew he’d like them, but he never anticipated the unadulterated fascination that he’d have with them. Just another unexpectedly joyous facet of Dean Winchester. But at the mention of previous experiences, he felt himself tense again, like he did when Dean kissed his neck.

“I- I don’t like to talk about it.” he said truthfully. He didn’t because, despite his rational inner protestations, he still felt ashamed. But of course, he didn’t tell _that_ to Dean, why ruin the moment?

“Hey, man, it’s totally fine. Either tell me or don’t, but just know I’m always here when and if you need me.” Castiel couldn’t really believe his ears, as if what he was hearing was just a blissful post-orgasmic hallucination.

“What on earth did I do to deserve you, Winchester?” he said jokily, but he knew Dean had to hear the utterly baffled sincerity under it all, like he always does. 

They were quiet after that, just holding each other and exchanging lazy kisses and groping, long into the night. Thank god for Friday nights, Castiel thought before sleep finally took him, wrapped around the boy he’d been pining over for months.  


	4. Chapter 4

Time in bed was good, Castiel thought, especially when you had a small power heater for a boyfriend. But it was less good when you were woken up before it was even light out. He felt warm breath behind his ear and wet kisses up his neck before he heard a low voice.

“Cas?” 

“Rrrnopenonope.” Castiel buried himself further into his pillows

“Was that a yes?” the younger boy drew out with a smile.

“Was a resolute no, Winchester.” Without opening his eyes

“Aw, coulda sworn it was something else, I guess you don’t wanna see the new uniforms, huh?” Dean sighed dramatically. “Guess I’ll just.. put it away.”

Castiel sprang up so quickly he felt the room swerving all around him, the light low and the town quiet. When he managed to focus finally, he decided the head rush was most definitely worth it. Before him stood a vision of green and gold, but rather than the usual trousers, Dean was wearing the short pleated skirt of the girl’s uniform, complete with a tight fitting top that cut to the shoulders and showed off his lean but powerful arms. Castiel barely noticed that his jaw was hanging open.

“So, you like?”

“It’s… adequate.” Castiel managed. 

“Oh. Adequate huh?”

“To be frank with you Dean, I’m struggling internally with warring desires.”

“And those would be?”

“Tearing that uniform off and licking you down from head to toe or fucking you against the wall until you scream with the skirt _on_.”

Dean audibly gulped. “Well, quite a conundrum ya got there, Cas.”

“Indeed, hence my apprehension.”

“How about both?”

“Both, both is good.” 

Castiel launched himself across the room, grabbing Dean’s ass and hoisting him up around his waist, Dean’s legs fastening tightly as they kissed like they were deprived of air. As Castiel scrunched the skirt up, he felt a distinct difference in the material, and reluctantly paused to look down at Dean’s underwear

“Are you wearing the- ”

“Rhonda leant them to me.” Dean looked down, his eyelashes longer in the dim light. 

“Shall we keep them on?”

“You kinky fucker.” Dean made quick work of Castiel’s belt and jeans, shoving them down in one resolute action. 

“I have acquired a tongue ring whilst courting you, were you really expecting anything else?” At which point, Castiel slid the silky underwear to the side and started working Dean open with his fingers, adding each finger slowly but surely, gently scissoring Dean wider for him. Dean’s face contorted with pleasure as Castiel made sure to prod his prostate every time he breached him.  

“Jesus Christ.” he breathed. 

“No. Although that’s a nice compliment, Dean.”

Dean let out a breathy, wrecked huff of a laugh. “Shut up and fuck me already.”

Castiel grinned and kissed Dean greedily as he aligned and buried himself to the hilt, savouring the way that Dean gasped into his neck, making sounds that only Castiel was deeply intimate with. As he fucked Dean hard against the door, Castiel was overwhelmed just by how much he loved the sight of his partner shattering in front of him, so perfectly taken apart. Dean clawed Castiel’s back, gripping him tightly as he came all over Rhonda Hurley’s beautiful silk underwear; Castiel feeling the way he tightened and convulsed around his dick, followed soon after. Castiel’s knees started to feel like they would give out, so he carried Dean over to the bed, still immersed in him.

As Castiel laid back with Dean on top of him, struggling to get his breath back (or to even see straight), Dean raised his head, breathing heavily and panting all over the other boy’s face. His eyes glinted mischievously, and Castiel groaned.

“What on earth- ”

“Apply to UCLA with me.”

“What?”

“You heard. Sammy’s got his heart set on Stanford, and I don’t want him to feel alone out there, he needs his big bro to look out for him at college. You’re Mr. Brainbox with an attitude and a heart o’ gold.” Dean tenderly stroked Castiel’s face and the other boy realised he’d been holding his breath. “I don’t want you to do it if you don’t want to, obviously, but I’m…” and despite the fact that he’d just been thoroughly fucked, he still managed to look so innocent, Castiel marvelled, “I don’t wanna not have this.” He huffed a laugh and pushed Castiel’s sweaty hair back. “I don’t wanna not… have… you.” He kissed him quickly on the lips, then smiled before covering Castiel’s face with kiss after kiss. Castiel was so full of warmth he realised he hadn’t said a thing. He held Dean’s face, then started to sit up. “Dean, I- Are you sure? Do you want to be saddled with me in college too?”

Dean looked confused. “Dude, are you serious? You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you’re smart and you’re into me. I’m never gonna get as good as you, like, ever. I hit the jackpot.”

“You’re barely eighteen.”

“So I hit the jackpot early.” he straddled Castiel, the underwear still wet, and looked into Castiel’s face. “I want you. I can’t even conceive of a me that wouldn’t want you.”

Castiel couldn’t help it. He smiled dopily up at Dean, taking in his radiance, before a flash of something he preferred to stay buried startled him. 

“I- I’ll have to think about it.”

“Cas?”

Castiel could feel himself getting dizzy with the memory, the nausea crawling up his throat. “Just, erm, could you… go, please. Dean, please go.”

Dean’s face turned ashen and Castiel’s heart dropped into his stomach at the sight. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, no Dean, you- you’re…” _more than I deserve, perfect, the only person I’ve ever felt at home with, my soul mate I’m sure of it_  “fine.” 

“Ok, I mean, see you in English, I guess?” Dean smiled, but it was uncertain. 

“Sure, Dean.”

Castiel was shaking, and he made a decision at that moment to tell Dean the truth. Honesty was the best policy, wasn’t it?


	5. Chapter 5

Walking under the bleachers after practice, Dean was lost in thought, still confused about what Cas had said to his offer. I mean, it’s not like UCLA was a bad college, and he seemed so into Dean. What was the problem? Before he could think any further he was slammed into on the supporting poles by a meaty hand. Fucking Alastair and his cronies, Gordon and Kubrick.

“What’s with your face, fag?” Gordon started off oh-so imaginatively.

“Yeah, ya little bitch, you want some of this?” ‘This’ apparently meaning his junk which he roughly cupped and jerked in Dean’s direction. Despite his calm exterior, Dean felt himself inwardly vomit. 

Gordon continued, “Bet you suck cock for the whole freakin’ football team as well as Holier-than-thou?”

“Holier-than-thou?” Kubrick questioned. God, they were like a freakin double act.

“Yeah, ‘cause he has all those piercings.”

“Sweet.” They high-fived. Fucking dweebs. 

Dean was starting to tire of the comedy duo a tad. “Can you neanderthals shut the hell up?”

“Oohh, is widdle princess Deanie offended, oh no!”

“You done?” he asked again, trying to sound even more apathetic despite how hard his heart had started to beat. 

“I’ll come on your face, will that make you feel better, faggot?” Alastair crooned. Dean knew enough to not try any bravado with him. He’d had to stay back a year because- well, the rumours were colourful to say the least. And yet, despite knowing better-

“Like you can get it up, dipshit.” Dean sneered, struggling against his hand a little.

But Alastair went stone-cold in a flash, his voice deepening to a breathy baritone, sending a quick rush of fear through Dean’s stomach. “I’ll fuck you with a rusty blade, ya little bitch.”

Before Dean could say another word, a familiar voice carried through the dappled scene, making the terrible twosome snap their heads round. Alastair stayed looking at Dean like a piece of meat, but Dean knew who that was. 

“Dean?”

“Oh look, your little boyfriend wants to join in the gang bang.” Kubrick had started to sound a helluva lot more malicious than he had a second ago. 

Without looking away from Alastair’s creepy face, Dean tried to inject as much evenness into his voice as possible. “Cas, stay outta this, ok? I’ll meet you in the lot.” 

“Yeah, listen to your little girlfriend, Sucks Pistols.”

“No. Dean is my boyfriend. And you’ll do better to get the hell away from him.” Fuck, Cas, don’t do this… Dean begged 

“Or what, faggot?”

Castiel didn’t say a word, not a goddamn word, before he slammed a punch into Gordon’s cheek and kicking out Kubrick’s legs from underneath him. He starting kicking and kicking their stomachs, then grabbed Alastair’s head and smashed his own into it. Alastair, despite being thoroughly dizzy, managed to throw a few punches of his own, and Cas ended up totally winded. Dean knelt down, trying to cover him, and he felt one of them spit on his hair.

“Dirty fags.” Gordon spat, but they were fucking walking away. Dean turned his attention to Cas, who was leaning back on his knees trying to get his breath back. 

“What the hell was that, Cas?” Dean breathed, overwhelmed by anger, by worry, by adrenaline. 

“I didn’t like the way they looked at you.”

“Jesus Cas, didn’t peg ya as the over-protective type.” Despite the heroics, Dean was not impressed, and he allowed the bitterness to echo through his words. Cas raised his head, tilting it slightly. 

“I just wanted to help.”

“Well, I can take care of myself.”

“Dean…”

“No, Cas, I think- I think I’ll go home by myself tonight. Figure out what the hell you want from me.”

“Dean, please, this is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous? That you thought those meatheads were actually a threat, or, or the fact that you really don’t think I could have taken them? I’m not some- some gothic heroine, man! I’m packed like a freakin’ mule, I box, like, what’s with the whole knight in shining armour crap? You’re hardly the type.”

“I- Is that what you’d prefer?”

“What?” 

“Would you prefer if I wasn’t myself? I aided you because you were simply not in the position to handle all three of them. I know perfectly well that you can defend yourself.”

“Well- ”

“No, but really, if you’d prefer I was one of those pristine linebackers or whatever the hell you ogle Benny for- ”

“I don’t- Christ, Cas, what the hell is this?”

“I believe we’re fighting, Dean.”

“Wow, thanks Captain Sarcasmo, any more witty comebacks for me?”

Completely ignoring the acid dripping from Dean’s words, Cas just turned on his heel and started to storm off. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

And since it was the day of putting his foot in his mouth today- “Maybe you won’t, Cas. Look, I- I’m really not the type of guy to make fucking future plans, and you just freak out on me! Then, what, you need to defend what’s yours? I don’t understand ok, I’m just tryna make sense of this.” He paused, taking a deep breath. Cas said nothing. “Do you… do you even care?”

He couldn’t see Cas’ face, but he could hear the sigh in his voice “Don’t be ridiculous, Dean.”

“Don’t be ridiculous? Right,” he laughed humourlessly, “just, go fuck yourself, seriously.”

“No, no, I meant- ” As if something struck him, he darkened, mumbling: “Fine, Dean.”

“Fine? That’s it?”

“What the hell do you want from me?” he didn’t sound angry he just sounded tired. Tired of _him_. God I knew this was too good to be true, Dean thought. He may have hit the jackpot but the ticket was torn up. 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass, to be honest, Cas. Do whatever the hell you want.” His voice cracked, and he turned before Cas could see the tears making their way down his cheeks, because God knows he couldn’t take looking even weaker in the other boy’s eyes then he clearly already did. How could he have been so stupid?


	6. Chapter 6

As he paced his room Cas had about zero idea what had happened that afternoon. He was going to tell him, he was sure of it, had even skipped last period so he could take time before practice working out how to phrase it. He wanted Dean to know, he wanted to be completely open with him, but he was so terrified, so worked up. 

And then that incident under the bleachers. Those pieces of shit ragging on his boyfriend. On Dean. How pathetic does one have to be to try and dampen the sun’s rays like that? How dare they speak to Dean that way, how fucking _dare_ they. So yes, Cas had gotten a little old-school protective over him, but how could he not?

“I’ve got to tell him.” he whispered to no one, as he carried on pacing and worrying his lip ring over and over. He decided if he was going to do this, he might as well go all out. 

As he darted into Michael’s old room to rummage through his wardrobe, picking out the least terribly-fitting suit he could find and smiling as he thought of the perfect detail to make Dean forgive him, Cas quickly catalogued where Anna’s make-up remover was. He even took out his lip-ring. 

Running down the stairs, he peeked outside and remembered how chilly it had been, so he grabbed a tan trenchcoat off the stand and put it on in front of the mirror. He froze when he saw his reflection. He looked… different. He couldn’t tell if it was good different or not, but he didn’t care. His hair had grown unruly and he had a couple days stubble… He looked eerily like cousin Jimmy. As he thought about shaving he maintained that he actually looked damned good with a five o’clock shadow and stormed out of the house, a young man on a mission.

 

——

 

Dean didn’t remember the last time he’d been so downtrodden. As he clicked through pictures of him and Cas he couldn’t help but feel like he’d either messed up completely or Cas had never really felt anything at all. He felt his heart start to sink and his guts go cold, until he found a picture of himself doing a handstand. There was soft light pouring through his window and he had a stupid grin on his face. He clicked through reams more, where Dean hadn’t even known that Cas even had his camera and he looked so… utterly content. He didn’t even know he could look like that anymore. The strain in their family often took its toll on the eldest Winchester, because he always tended to take on burdens which were not his to carry. But when he saw himself, through the lens which Cas saw him through, he had no doubts anymore.

But- 

“Shit.” Dean hissed. He’d totally gone off on one with Cas, and he’d just been trying to help, the idiot. But before he could do a thing, Sammy burst into his room and panted, “Dean there’s some guy to see you!”

“Tell him I’m busy or somethin’ Sammy.”

He pouted at his big brother and stated prissily, “It’s _Sam_ , I’m not a fat twelve-year old DEAN.”

“Eh, only a couple hundred pounds off being a fat fourteen-year-old though.” he teased.

He huffed at Dean and shouted, “FINE answer your own door, ya JERK!” before running to his room and slamming the door. 

As Dean ran downstairs thinking it must’ve been Victor dropping off some books, he opened the door and blurted, “Are you our tax accountant or something?”

The guy widened his eyes and grinned before Dean realised.

Holy _shit_. 

Cas was practically dressed to the nines. I mean, if the nines were a bad-fitting suit, shiny italian-looking shoes and a huge trenchcoat with no make-up or-

“You took out the lip ring?” he sounded so despondent even to his own ears.

“Didn’t think it really fit the look.”

 

Yep that was definitely Cas, and not some random guy whose bones Dean definitely wanted to jump.

 

“Well. You look different.”

Cas huffed and rolled his eyes, as if they hadn’t had a weird scary fight that afternoon, as if Dean hadn’t wanted to punch him in the face for making him feel like he was weak. 

“Are you going to state the obvious all evening or are you going to let me out of this icy tundra?”

“Dude it’s like February. In _Kansas_.”

“You know I’m naturally cold. It’s why I like snuggling up to you.”

 

And damn if the world “snuggling” had never sounded dirtier. 

 

But Dean was still kinda mad at him, so of course he had to make Cas work for it. He couldn’t just roll over and take it (not like this anyway).

 

“Why should I?”

But that’s when Cas turned on the puppy eyes (did Sam teach him that _already_ Jesus H) and shuffled in his shoes, shifting his weight and along with the ensemble looking the most un-Cas ever. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Actually I- I came to talk to you.”

“About what?”

He took on a more pleading tone, which Dean couldn’t help but be drawn to. “Really not something I wanna discuss on your doorstep Dean.”

Before Dean could open his mouth, Sam barged past them with a huge backpack. 

 

“Woah, there, Speedy Gonzalez, where’d ya think you’re going?”

The kid just sighed like his brother was a moron or something and said “Friday night’s when I have sleepovers at Barry’s, this literally happens every week DEAN.”

“Well… I mean, alright then.”

“Jeez Dean, just ‘cause you don’t not- WOAH CAS IS THAT YOU?”

 

Cas looked down at himself then back at Sam with a little smirk. “In the flesh, big man.”

“You look old.” he remarked. 

“Shut up Sam.”

“That’s rich from the guy who thought I was your tax accountant.”

Dean shuffled awkwardly. “The lack of eye-liner threw me off.”

“You look good, Cas.” Sam states matter-of-factly. “Just ‘cause Dean’s fussy doesn’t mean he doesn’t still love you. Anyways bye guys! Don’t jump on the bed too much, it’ll probably break.”

 

The pint-sized punk trotted off oblivious to Cas’ big and gummy smile and Dean’s blush heating up his face like a teapot.

 

“So, now that we all know you love me- "

“Shut up.” he whined. 

“Are you going to let me in?” and he said it so sweetly, how could anyone resist?

 

Dean took one look at Cas and pulled him in by his tie over his shoulder. He sighed. “Come in then.”

As he led Cas upstairs, though, he couldn’t help mulling over what could possibly be so earth-shattering for Cas to go all My Fair Lady on him just to talk. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Now that he was here, Castiel was legitimately freaking out. He’d never told anyone and he’d kept it inside for so long he didn’t know if he’d come off as being emotionally stunted or something. The only thing that kept him motivated was the young man in front of him, leading him by the hand (after brief deliberation that yes, leading someone up the stairs by their tie may be a choking hazard) up to his room.

Dean lounged on the bed and patted his lap where Cas usually lay when they have a talk, but he shook his head and sat cross-legged in front of him after shucking off the shoes and the coat and jacket that were frankly smothering him. 

 

And despite the fact that this was a huge deal for Cas, he couldn’t help but smile as Dean repositioned himself and put on a very serious expression. 

“So, erm, what is it- what- the thing. What do you wanna tell me?”

Castiel felt his fists ball up in the sheets as he took a large breath. And Dean was planted. He wasn’t going anywhere. Cas _knew_ that but still, he’d been hesitant nonetheless. So he let go.

“When I was sixteen, I had my first… well, experience with a boy. A man, really.” He watched Dean like a hawk to see any sign of disgust. When he saw none, he carried on. “I mean, at first it was fun, really fun, and I, erm, I always… He always topped, basically.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed and simply said slowly, “O-kaaay…”

Cas continued: “I, well, I didn’t know this at the time but, he’d kind of been boasting about me to his friends and, well, long story short, I went a bit… crazy. I slept with five guys in one night and it was… I don’t know, I didn’t remember a lot of it. It was strange, I knew I wanted it, it felt really, kind of, heady? Being allowed to be out of control like that? Being _wanted,_ ” and his voice cracked and shit it wasn’t meant to do that, he wasn’t meant to cry about it god he was pathetic, “it was the best feeling. But it was- Well the morning after I felt really, erm, empty. Hollow, like someone had scooped me out and it was- it was the worst feeling, Dean. I had been consenting the entire time but, it hadn’t meant anything and I just felt really alone and like I’d given up too much of myself, and I never wanted to give myself over like that to anyone else and from then on I just… Didn’t think very much of myself. Y’know? And when you wanted me to apply to UCLA with you, I panicked because, you don’t seem to know I’m just… I’m just trash Dean. I’m not good enough for you. I’d do anything for you but I’m not… enough.” He chuckled humourlessly then. “But I’m selfish and I can’t not have you in my life. So I wanted you to know now, just know that this is the person you want to saddle yourself with.” Then, quiet as anything, he whispered, “Do you still want me?”

He didn’t dare look up. He didn’t want to see the hatred he felt for himself reflected in someone as bright as Dean. But then he felt two warm hands cup his face and he looked up at Dean looking at him like he arranged the stars. _What the hell?_

“You’re such an idiot.” Dean smiled, punctuated with a hiccuping sound, like he was choked up. Then Dean was kissing him strong and loving and Cas had never felt anything like it before, like Dean was his Atlas and he’d always hold him up. 

“Wait, what?” Cas asked, because he had to because this couldn’t really be happening.

“Did you think I’d stop- How could I be in love with such a fucking _idiot_ you’re meant to be the smart one Cas! I’m the pretty one, remember?” he sounded so surprised, so sincere. 

Cas felt his bottom lip wobble, and god he felt so exposed right now. “You really love me, Dean?”

“Like I said you’re my idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.” He smiled back. He rested his forehead against Dean’s and neither of them talked about the tears silently streaming down their cheeks because hey, no chick-flick moments. 

They curled up still fully clothed while Dean stroked through Cas’ hair and hummed “Ode to Joy” until they both fell asleep, tangled up in each other the way they both secretly hoped they’d be for the rest of their lives. 

 

——

 

Dean woke up at around 3am desperately needing a piss, so, after carefully extracting himself from Cas, who simply snuffled and buried himself in another pillow, he took care of it and then found himself stopping at his door, looking at Cas engulfed in that stupid shirt (they’d loosened the tie because of the aforementioned choking hazard) and his big comforter and duvets and quilts. The moon creeped a sliver through the curtains and barely illuminated what could be described as one of the most amazing things Dean had ever seen.

“I must be the luckiest son of a gun in the world.” he breathed. He padded over to the bed again, closing the door behind him, and tucked his arms around Cas, but before he could settle, he heard a deep rumbly noise emerge from under a flurry of sheets and hair.

 

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” he whispered. 

Cas turned over still clutching the pillow and further fluffing up his wild hair, peering at Dean sleepily. “I was going to make it up to you, y’know. I wasn’t planning on actual _snuggling_.”

As Dean started tracing over the creases in Cas’ cheek, he rolled his eyes and condescended “What _did_ you have in mind?”

“Well I was hoping to tie you to the bed so you could fuck my brains out but if you’re going to be prissy- ”

“HEY NOW no one’s getting prissy over here, this is a no-priss zone.” he laughed but then remembered what Cas had given him that night, what he had let Dean see, and he asked, “Are you ok with that?”

“What?”

“Me, y’know- ”

“Jesus, Dean, I’m not porcelain, I can handle it! Plus you’ll be tied up so really it’s an exercise in power bottoming which I’m pretty confident in thank you very much.” he grinned but Dean wasn’t sure if this was Cas being good natured or not. So he worried, sue him. 

“If you’re sure…”

Cas leaned over and kissed him on the nose. “The surest.” He then whipped off the silk blue tie that made his eyes pop from around his neck and dragged it through his teeth. “So, let’s do this!”

 

Manoeuvring themselves in their half-asleep state made everything that much better, extra grinding, lazy tongues, more fondling, always a plus, but on the flip side a lot more difficult. As they fumbled in the near-darkness, gradually stripping so there was nothing separating them, Cas had to take directions from ex-Boy Scout Dean (“Typical” “Dude shut up, scouts was awesome.” “Got two words for you; camp fires.” “More like repressed homosexuality.”) on how to tie his boyfriend to his bed frame. 

Once they’d gotten the logistics out of the way however, the fun part came naturally, as if Cas opening up like that had just broken down the last barrier between them, and as Dean writhed under Cas licking and kissing from his neck to his hipbones. Then Dean watched as Cas licked his fingers and started to work himself open, which was totally unfair as the only thing Dean could do about it was buck into nothing, his cock hardening in the growing heat of the room. 

And the _sounds_ Cas was making were- Christ, maybe it was all that practice for the SAT but the only word that came to mind was debauched. His lips were a perfect ‘o’ and he was making little whines and whimpers and moans and _christ_ Dean was getting way too hard.

“You nearly done over there?”

Cas chuckled throatily, the menace, and cracked one eye open. He rasped shakily: “You got anything in mind that’ll speed this along?” 

Dean’s eyes flitted around the room and finally found the pompoms Lisa had told him to look after. Cas followed his line of vision, and as they looked at each other, Cas cocked his eyebrow and _licked his stupid perfect lips goddammit_. And then, of course, Cas leapt off the bed and picked up the pompom, padded back onto the bed, and proceeded to carry on working himself open with the fucking _handle._

“Jesus Cas, you’re gorgeous how are you even- ” but before he could even pretend he was gonna finish that sentence, Cas leaps over Dean’s sweat-covered body and kisses him ferociously, worrying his lip between his teeth and practically whining as their cocks ground together.

“Oh God I can’t be bothered to tease you anymore just fuck me already.” he breathed between gasped kisses and as Dean desperately surged up he pulled back and started lowering himself agonisingly slow onto-

“MOTHER MARY OF JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” he cried, straining his neck as he bucked upwards uncontrollably. 

“There there, keep your Catholicism out of this, Winchester, you’ve got some pretty conservative neighbours.” he groaned as he finally bottomed out. 

“You are wa- way too c-coherent. And please just move your _ass_ Castiel?”

“Ooh full name, I’ll have to make you pay for that…” his voice shook as he ground his ass ever further and they gasped at the same time.

As Cas rose up and down and circled his hips, Dean slowly started to lose his mind, feeling the heat start to build and build low in his gut. He felt like his entire body was aflame and it was amazing. He looked through lidded eyes at Cas who looked utterly filthy, moaning and leaning back, tossing his head and exposing his neck as he rode Dean like a damn rodeo bull _and you’re confusing your fantasies Dean_ but he didn’t care this was possibly one of the best moments of his life, being this close to Cas was so intense and everything was just perfect. 

“Oh God, Dean, I need you touch me.” Cas whined through the creaking.

“Little tied up here Cas.” Dean managed with what he hoped looked like a grin but probably looked like he was mildly constipated.

“Oh fuck… Oh shit, I’m so close- ”, he whined, launching himself at Dean and kissed him, plunging himself inside his mouth and sweet baby jesus, Dean had to hang on just a little longer-

“Fuck it.” Cas growled, and he just pumped himself down onto Dean again and again like a damn piston, and Dean almost winced at the thought of the state his thighs were probably in, but he was pretty preoccupied with the fact that this was one of the hottest things he’d ever witnessed. 

“Oh I'm almost there- ” he kept on drawling a litany of expletives and endless _Dean Dean Dean_ and then he was coming in long stripes, moaning and brandishing Dean with a scattering of fingermarks on his sides. As he started to come down, eyes lidded, boneless, he littered kisses all over Dean’s face and chest and Dean managed to bite out: “Christ Cas, untie me for fuck’s sake.”

And as Cas fumbled with the knot, Dean swooped him up in one move and ground their dicks together in his hand, both groaning at the contact. 

“Fuck Cas, I love you I love you, don’t ever forget it, jesus _christ- ”_ he burned and built before he was tumbling over the edge. As he came all over Cas’s dick and his fist, he returned to see Cas looking celestially fucked out, kissing everywhere he had access to. 

 

He grinned down at him and started punctuating every pore he could focus on with kisses, then licking and nipping at his jaw and neck. 

“That was awesome.” his voice sounded wrecked and thoroughly fucked. 

Still slightly breathless, Cas studied Dean’s face, carefully tracing up and down the pulse line in his throat hammering away. “Eh, it was ok.”

Dean snorted, “Ok? Please. I just rocked your world and you know it.”

Cas made a gentle noncommittal shrug and grazed his nails over Dean’s ribs and his spine, causing him to shiver a little. “My world may have been sufficiently wobbled.”

Dean sighed, “Well then, if it was so bad, maybe we shouldn’t go for round two later today- ” then stuck his tongue out between his teeth because _two could play at that game._

Castiel huffed then buried his face in the crook of Dean’s neck. “You’re insufferable Winchester.”

“S’why ya love me.” he mumbled into the mop of Cas’ hair, kissing it like it was going out of fashion. 

“Which is exactly why I’m the token idiot.” he muttered back.

 

As they sleepily traced each other with hands on skin and legs wrapped up in each other, they each privately thought it couldn’t possibly get better than this.


End file.
